


Dance With Me, Richie

by kanasukii



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Fluff, Kind of angsty, M/M, Reddie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-19 18:17:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12415407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanasukii/pseuds/kanasukii
Summary: If you can’t sleep, the only option is to dance with your boyfriend in the kitchen.





	Dance With Me, Richie

  Eddie is jolted awake by the sound of glass falling, and then shattering. A soft “shit” is heard quickly after. He sits up and yawns, notices that it’s two in the morning. Eddie can’t help it, but an exasperated sigh slips out of his mouth.

  He pulls himself out of the bed and pulls a blanket off the pile next to his feet. It happens to be Richie’s favorite blanket, and Eddie pulls it up to his nose so that he can breath in Richie’s scent. Eddie pads into the kitchen quietly and glances over the countertop with a raised eyebrow.

  
  “Rich?” he calls quietly, his voice muffled by the blanket, and Richie’s curly head pops up, a surprised expression on his face. The only light in the room is coming from a small desk lamp beside their coffee maker. Eddie notices that it sets a melancholy vibe over their small kitchen, and he feels oddly relaxed. Richie is quick to his feet, narrowly avoiding stepping on a particularly large shard.

  
  “Hey, baby,” he greets the shorter male and pulls him into a tight embrace. “I’m, uh, sorry if I woke you up,” he apologizes.

  
  Eddie shakes his head. “Don’t sweat it,” comes his soft reply. They stand there, Eddie’s head resting on Richie’s shoulder, Richie holding Eddie like he’s the last person on earth. Eddie finally pulls away and kneels down, silently picking up the broken glass piece by piece. Richie cringes at himself, he can’t even get water without messing things up for Eddie. As soon as the shorter male dumps the remains of the glass into the garbage, he turns to Richie with soft eyes.

  
  “Are you ok?” Eddie asks, looking into Richie’s eyes. Richie shrugs and looks down at the ground, “I dunno.” He feels embarrassed that Eddie has to take care of him.

  
  “Wanna talk about it?” he asks and leads Richie to a chair. Richie shrugs again. Eddie sits down and notices that his glasses are missing, and there seems to be some sort of sadness in those big, brown eyes. Maybe he couldn’t see very well, and that’s why he dropped the glass. He leans forward and grabs Richie’s hands, holding them tightly and running over them with his thumb.

  
  Eddie feels Richie’s trembling hands and decides it’s not really the missing glasses that caused him to drop it.

  
  “I guess I couldn’t sleep,” he starts, “But when I would finally manage to fall asleep, bam, I was having another dream about It,” Richie finally manages to say, his voice sounding tired and strained. Eddie nods understandingly and encourages him to continue. Besides, it’s not like Richie was the only one of the Losers Club to be plagued by disturbing nightmares. “Every time I have a dream about It, you always die. Like, every single time, and I’m standing there, and I can’t do anything about it. He never kills you the same way again either, so I can’t even try to come up with a game plan so I can stop him,” Richie stops because he thinks he is rambling. Eddie is staring at him with wide eyes, concern deep within them. “God, that sounds so pathetic, me getting worked up over a goddamn dream,” he says and looks down at their hardwood floor.

  
  Eddie reaches up to cradle Richie’s face. “That’s not pathetic, Rich. It’s okay to be upset, and that sounds like something I pulled out of my ass, but it’s true,” he says quietly. “The being upset part, not the pulling-it-out-of-my-ass part,” Eddie tacks on, causing Richie to let out a soft chuckle.

  
  Both of them sit in silence for what seems like forever, just staring into each other’s eyes, having a silent conversation. Suddenly, a lightbulb goes off in Eddie’s head like a flash.

  
  “I have an idea,” he said abruptly and pulled himself away from Richie. Richie quirks an eyebrow and watches Eddie drape the black blanket across the back of his chair. He hears Eddie pad quietly to the back of the house, presumably to their room. Eddie grabs his phone quickly and returns to the kitchen, plugging it up to their speaker. The beginning of Drive by The Cars fills the kitchen with its melancholy sound. Eddie holds out a hand and whispers, “Dance with me, Richie.”

  
  Richie’s face flushes what he is sure is an unflattering shade of red before standing and taking the shorter male’s hand. Eddie pulls him close, and they fall into a simple step, their bodies pressed together. Richie’s hand rests on the small of Eddie’s back, the other hand holding him. Eddie’s head is once again on Richie’s chest, his hands on Richie’s hips. They sway together to the beat, neither of them speaking. It is a soft moment they will remember in the morning, Eddie realizes but doesn’t say it out loud. It is not like something straight from a movie. Eddie is wearing one of Richie’s old t-shirts and pineapple print boxers. Richie’s hair is a mess, and he’s wearing nothing but blue-plaid pajama bottoms and am incredibly stretched out white tank top. They both have barely noticeable dark circles, and Richie moves his hand to Eddie’s hair and notices just how soft it is. They dance to the playlist they made together in high school, dancing to songs like I Ran and Material Girl. (Richie sits out on that one) Eddie spins Richie around during Let’s Hear It For The Boy, another of Eddie’s personal favorites. They twirl around their kitchen, lost in each other and themselves, Richie’s nightmares forgotten for the time being. Eddie only runs into the handle of their dishwasher once.

  By the time they stop dancing they notice that the sun is starting to peek over the horizon, its rays barely poking holes through the thick trees. Richie is in a much better mood and he presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s forehead.

  
  “Thanks, Eds,” he says quietly. Eddie doesn’t correct him, and is instead more occupied with pulling Richie down to his face and kissing his chapped lips. When they pull away, Richie manages to look away and steals a glance at the digital oven clock.

  
  5:37 AM

  
  He tugs on the hem of Eddie’s shirt. “It’s five thirty, maybe it’s time for bed,” he says quietly. Eddie nods and is suddenly grateful that it’s Saturday.  
He looks up at him and smiles.

  “Yeah, maybe it is,” he replies. Both of them shuffle slowly through the house, Richie holding Eddie’s hand loosely. They pull back the sheets and slide under them quietly and Eddie tugs Richie so that his head is resting on Eddie’s chest.  
 

  Eddie runs his hand through Richie’s soft and slightly tangled curls. It doesn’t take long for Richie’s breaths to even out and Eddie relaxes, and looks out through their window through the broken blinds. He sees the dusty pinks and the soft oranges as the sun starts to rise. Richie’s face is slightly illuminated by the big star and Eddie starts to count his freckles. He gets to forty-eight before he finally drifts off.

**Author's Note:**

> I uploaded this from my phone because I’m lazy, so apologies if the text/formatting/whatever looks messed up :^)
> 
> update: I tried fixing it from my laptop and I must be a dumbass because I can't figure out how to make it look nice
> 
> update update: I fixed it I'm happy now


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